


Star Light, Star Bright

by Lulu_The_Real_Slytherpuff



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, I cried writing this, I'm so sorry, Legal Drama, Major character death - Freeform, Murder, Sad, Stalking, What Is Wrong With ME, when a fan takes it too far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 09:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulu_The_Real_Slytherpuff/pseuds/Lulu_The_Real_Slytherpuff
Summary: It takes two minutes for a body to bleed out completely.Mitch didn’t know that.





	Star Light, Star Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, 
> 
> I'm back with another super depressing story that is unedited and unbeta'ed (So all mistakes are mine). 
> 
> This is quite a dark one that does include murder andmentions of blood (You've been warned).
> 
> I just want to make a point that I definitely don't want Mitch Marner dead and that this is semi based on the real life crimes that happened to John Lennon and Christina Grimmie (both of whom were shot by obsessed fans). 
> 
> Enjoy.

It takes two minutes for a body to bleed out completely.

 

Mitch didn’t know that.

 

*

 

The car is a black Ford Fiesta, number plate 552 GTR. It’s parked on the left-hand side of the pavement, driver’s window facing the doors to the apartment building. On the right-hand corner of the back window, sits a large blue Maple Leaf with the numbers ‘16’ in the middle.

 

Residents claim a man, approximate age 40-45, sits in the driver’s side for anywhere between four-seven hours per day. The man’s looks has been described as around 5’11, cropped light brown hair, broad shoulders, and a long, hooked nose. Eyes have always been concealed by thick sunglasses.

 

*

 

09:28 – Monday – Three Weeks Exact

 

The first time Mitch sees the car is on a Monday, as he’s leaving his apartment building. The man in the car waves as Mitch walks past him and Mitch tries to ignore the uneasy feeling that tingles up his spine, as though the man in the car was watching him.

 

He tells Auston about it when he finally makes it to the rink.

 

“Maybe he’s a fan who was a little bit too nervous to ask for your autograph?” Auston says, when Mitch tells him.

 

“Yeah, maybe.”

 

The car is gone by the time he returns home.

 

 

09:32 –Tuesday – Three Weeks

The car, along with the man, is back outside of his apartment building again the next day. He sits in the front seat of his car, stoic and holding last month’s newspaper. The man waves at Mitch again as he walks past and makes his way to the car.

 

And Mitch waves back, like he’s supposed to. The man grins a brightly back at him and the uneasiness returns.

 

Mitch tries to shake it off as he heads to the rink.

 

“He was there again!” He yells to Auston as he enters the locker room.

 

“Who was where again?” Marty looks up from his phone.

 

“This creepy guy that keeps sitting outside my building in his car,” Mitch replies.

 

“Are you sure he doesn’t just really want your autograph?” Auston says, yet again.

 

And, okay, Mitch gets it. It is kind of nerve racking asking someone for their autograph but he’s not the most intimidating person out there. Just ask Marty.

 

Practice goes fast but Mitch is barely paying attention.

 

The man and his car are still there by the time Mitch returns and he can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that settles in his bones.

 

 

 

15:27 – Monday – One Week

The man has been there every day the past two weeks. Just lurking outside in his car. Reading the same newspaper, parked in the same place at the same time every day, and always wearing Mitch’s jersey.

 

But the man never asks Mitch for his autograph, never gets out of his car, never does anything except for watch Mitch as he enters and exits the building.

 

Auston’s dropping him off home again when Mitch notices the car still there in the same spot that morning.

 

“Hey – uh – Auston?” He taps Auston on the shoulder and hopes he doesn’t sound as terrified as he feels.

 

“Yeah?” Auston turns around to him just as he pulls up outside the building.

 

“Can I just stay at yours tonight, man?”

 

Auston’s eyes glaze over in confusion for a second until he notices the black car on the other side of the road.

 

“He’s been here all day!” Mitch says. “He was there when I left at six this morning and it’s nearly midnight, Aus!”

 

“Okay, okay Mitchy. You know you’re always welcome over.”

 

And then Auston’s pulling away and heading back in the other direction.

 

 

*

 

 

He stays at Auston’s apartment for the next week before he decides that he needs to “man up” and go back to his own apartment. There’s only so many times he can wear the same set of clothes or borrow one of Auston’s shirts without people noticing.

 

He says as much to Auston when he Auston insists it’s okay for him to stay as long as he wants.

 

“Matts, my dude, my bro, he’s probably gone by now. I haven’t been back in week. He’s probably gotten sick of waiting for me to show up and fucked off,” Mitch flashes a smile and tries not to show on his face the way his stomach clenches.

 

Auston doesn’t look convinced but concedes to drop him off back home anyway.

 

The man isn’t in front of his apartment and Mitch lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

 

 

 

 

*

23:54 – Monday – Toronto Police Department

 

 

The call comes through at 11:54pm.

 

It’s a man, his voice soft and unwavering.

 

“I don’t think he can breathe.”

 

Officer Dean Redman sits at the front desk of the Toronto Police Department. He’s stuck with the nightshift which he both loved and hates. The nights are relatively devoid of crimes but the ones that do happen are usually much more brutal than the ones in the daytime.

 

This time it’s no different.

 

“Sir, can you tell me where you are so I can send an ambulance through?” Redman asks, already trying to trace the co-ordinates of the call. He barely blinks at the unusual call to the police station instead of the hospital.

 

The man doesn’t answer his question, instead choosing to repeat his earlier words.

 

“Sir, I’m going to need you to talk through what happened?” Redman asks, finally tracing the call and sending for an ambulance.

 

“I didn’t mean to pull the trigger,” The man says in a calm voice, and Redman feels his spine tingle as he hears someone in the background.

 

“Why…help…can’t… why…”

 

The voice in the background is muffled but it is clearly a male voice. Stuttered by heavy breaths and deep, painful moans. He sounds young.

 

Redman feels his heart stop.

 

It’s going to be one of _those_ nights.

 

He pulls the phone away from his face and wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve before taking a deep breath and lifting the phone back to his ear. He’s got to keep the man talking and pray that the ambulance makes it to the victim in time.

 

*

00:14 – Tuesday – Mitch’s Apartment Block

The first thing Auston sees when he arrives at Mitch’s apartment are the red and blue lights that shouldn’t be there. Something deep in his gut wrenches as he steps out of the vehicle. Mitch had only been back at his apartment for a few hours before Auston decided he needed to go and keep him company. Something about the man’s disappearance earlier not sitting well with him. Auston steps out of the car and surveys the scene around him.

 

One ambulance.

Two police cars.

A large crowd surrounding the EMTs.

And in the middle of the EMTs, a familiar tuft of brown hair.

 

_Mitch._

 

The ground below him dips, and his vision blurs, legs pushing him through the crowd and right to where Mitch is laying. A crimson pool surrounding him that flows from his stomach, his skin ghostly white and his head lolling to the side. Eyes open, glossy. He’s staring right at Auston.

 

Except he’s not.

 

Mitch’s chest rises harshly as the defibrillator shocks him.

 

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

 

And Auston can’t move away. Can’t bring himself to tear his gaze from Mitch’s pale blues.

 

“We’ll have to call it,” A blonde haired, twenty something EMT says, her voice firm. She’s had to call it twice already this week.

 

Her co-worker nods his head and looks at his watch.

 

“Time of death 12:26,” He pats Mitch’s head and closes Mitch’s eyes. “You fought hard kid.”

 

And then they’re covering a white sheet over Mitch’s body and the blonde haired EMT produces a black body bag, and Auston is on his knees, and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe,

 

He can’t breathe,

 

Mitch is dead,

 

He can’t breathe,

 

So much blood,

 

He can’t breathe,

 

And…

 

And…

 

And nothing.

*

 

05:15 – Tuesday – Toronto Police Department

 

It’s still dark outside as Auston slouches forward in one of the old plastic chairs in the waiting room. A paper cup full of water shaking in his hands and his knees bouncing up and down as if he’s playing an imaginary kick drum.

 

He’s been here nearly four hours; four hours of of the world passing by as he tries to make sense of the crimson and Mitch’s lifeless eyes. Auston vaguely remembers a young officer recognising him, and telling him to “breathe in…breathe out”. If only the same tactic would work with Mitch.

 

He remembers the officers taking him to a small interrogation room and asking him all sorts of questions.

 

“Do you know who might have done this?”

 

_Yes._

“Do you know this person, personally?’

 

_No, he stalked Mitch’s building for three weeks._

_Maybe longer._

_I don’t know._

 

“Can you identify him?”

 

_I – I think I could._

05:20 – Tuesday – Toronto Police Department

Bonnie and Paul Marner arrive at the station for hours too late and take the plastic chairs next to Auston. There’s a redness around Bonnie’s eyes and wetness fresh on Paul’s face.

“They – they wanted us to check that it was him,” Bonnie whispers out to the empty waiting room. Her breath hitches and almost instinctively Auston wraps his arm around her and pulls her close.

 

Paul doesn’t say anything, do anything. Just sits on the hard plastic and stares ahead, his eyes holding the reflection of his youngest son’s pale face on a morgue gurney.

 

10:42 – Tuesday – Leafs Locker Room – Practice Facility

There’s laughter and banter floating about in the locker room. Chirps of all shapes and sizes getting tossed around like tennis match between players. The atmosphere is warm, and almost every player has arrived.

 

Except Mitch and Auston.

 

“Bet those fuckers got pulled by the cops for speeding, eh?” Kadri laughs, when Marty points it out.

 

“Dumbasses, I tell ya,” Hymie pipes in. “Great in a game, not so much in life.”

 

The locker room erupts into laughter again.

 

Babs walks in.

 

Footsteps loud and heavy, like a funeral march.

 

The locker room quietens. Babs’ cheeks are wet and his shoulders are slouched.

 

He sighs.

 

“I’m gonna tell it to ya straight, boys,” Babs says, voice thick. “Last night Mitch was shot.”

 

There’s a deafening silence around the room. A tension so thick, it’s stretched to just a moment before the elastic snaps. A cold chill settles and its Willy who breaks the silence.

 

“But, he’ll be okay, won’t he Coach?”

 

Babs turns his gaze to the ground, takes a deep breath and surveys the room.

 

“He didn’t make it, Willy.”

 

11:15 – Tuesday

The news breaks at 11:15 on every major news outlet.

 

‘Mitch Marner of the Toronto Maple Leafs shot dead by crazed fan outside of apartment’.

 

The sky dims, rain falls and a city mourns.

 

18:03 – Tuesday – Toronto Police Department

Detective Michelle Beaulieu studies the man in front of her.

 

Michael Bradman.

Forty-Three.

5’11”

Light brown hair.

Green eyes.

 

He was fired from his janitorial job at the ACC four weeks ago.

 

Bradman glares at the desk, avoiding Michelle’s gaze. He’s fiddling with the cuffs on his wrists.

 

“I don’t see why you have to chain me up when I willingly came forward,” Bradman says, voice uncomfortably gentle.

 

“Protocol Mr Bradman,” She replies. “Now tell me again what happened?”

 

11:00 – Monday – Following Week – Cemetery

The funeral lands on a Monday. It’s small, private. Close family and friends, and the team.

 

He’s lying in a blue coffin, wearing his Leafs jersey over a dark suit. Mitch’s eyes are closed, mouth set in a small half smile and his hands clasped over his stomach. Marty stands transfixed.

 

Mitch could be sleeping.

 

Any minute now he’ll wake up, jump out of the coffin and shout “SURPRISE! It’s just a prank bro!”

 

And then Marty would tackle Mitch, tell him how much he scared him and how much he loves him. A stray sob escapes his mouth and he feels Syd place a hand on his shoulder, her own eyes leaking salty tears.

 

*

 

When Mitch’s parents ask Patty to write a speech, he’s not sure how to go about it. He’s only known Mitch for a season and yet there’s so much he wants to say.

 

He kept putting the speech off until Jagger asked why Mitch hadn’t visited in a while.

 

They call him to the podium and Patty’s knees shake as he walks up there. He stops next to Mitch on the way up and gently pats his shoulder. Patty takes to the podium, lets out a breath and stares at the sea of the Maple Leaf blue clad audience below him- everyone who was ever important in Mitch’s life.

 

“I only knew Mitch for a season but he’s taught me so much in such little time…”

 

*

 

Auston is the only one left in the cemetery by the time the coffin has been buried along with his best friend. It’s unusually hot for Toronto weather, bright and sunny. Auston was hoping that it would rain like it does in the movies – that the gloomy weather would match that of the funeral.

 

It makes sense, he supposes, that Mitch would get buried on a bright, sunny day. Just like his personality. In some ways, Auston thinks that it’s really just Mitch up wherever he is shining down on them.

 

It would be a _Mitch_ thing to do.

 

 

14:57 – Wednesday – Toronto Courthouse

The trial begins on a warm Wednesday afternoon. Michael Bradman stands before the judge in a ratty brown suit. He’s pleading guilty.

 

The trial should be over before it even starts.

 

Bradman supplies the murder weapon,

The gory details,

And no remorse.

 

The judge asks him “why?”

 

Bradman refuses to answer.

 

The trial is finished by 17:58 with a ruling of life with no chance of parole.

 

23:28 – Monday – Mitch’s Apartment

 

It happens like this.

 

One moment Mitch is lounging on his couch, a beer in one hand, phone in the other and ‘When Harry Met Sally’ playing in the background on TV. The next there’s a knock on the door and Mitch groans as he gets up to answer it.

 

Maybe it’s Auston?

 

Although, Matts usually just lets himself in.

 

Mitch’s door doesn’t have peephole like the other apartments do. Apparently the last guy who lived here broke the old door and couldn’t get a decent replacement for it. It’s times like these when he wishes the last guy didn’t fuck with the old door.

 

The Man is standing on the other side, jersey in hand and a permanent marker. Mitch lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when he sees the jersey.

 

“Hey man, so just an autograph, eh?” Mitch releases a relieved sigh and goes to take the jersey.

 

Except that doesn’t happen.

 

Instead the man grabs tight hold of Mitch’s hand and excitedly drags him down to his car, talking about how he has several more jersey’s in his car that he wants signing.

 

“Whoa, hey there, man, slow down a bit,” Mitch says trying to release the man’s grip on his wrist. “How about I just sign this one for now, seeing as it’s late?”

 

The man doesn’t relent and drags Mitch down into the lobby.

 

“HEY!” Mitch yells. “LET GO!”

 

Mitch manages to release his hand from the man’s girp, finally. Except suddenly there’s a loud bang and a sharp pain the spreads like wildfire across his stomach, and then he’s falling to his knees.

 

He looks up to find the barrel of a gun pointing at him, and smoke unfurling from the end in soft wisps.

 

The man on the other end of the barrel looks shocked, like a he can’t quite believe he’s just done that.

 

“Why-”Mitch tries to ask him but there’s blood gargling in his throat and leaking from his mouth.

 

Mitch’s knees give way underneath him and his chest tightens.

 

He can’t breathe.

 

He tries to keep talking, tries to tell the man he can’t breathe, can’t move.

 

But his body is numb. A tingling sensation that dances across his body from his fingertips. His head feels light, and the numbness in his body turns to a heavy weight.

 

Are they stars he’s seeing?

 

Diamond-like sparkling stars.

 

So beautiful, so – so beautiful.

 

A loud shout brings him to the present again but only for a second. He sees the man on the phone and then the stars come back.

 

Once, when Mitch was nine years old he asked his Mom how long it would take to bleed to death, what would it feel like?

 

She’d slapped him on the wrist and told him to take his mind from the gutter.

Like this, he realises.

 

It feels like this.

 

The stars burn brighter, lighting up his vision until he can see only white.

 

He sucks in one final breath.

 

And leaps.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcome and much appreciated, as is kudos. 
> 
> I look forward to seeing you all when I post my next piece of fucked up work :)


End file.
